Equals
by marylou
Summary: A collection of my Squire's Tales oneshots and drabbles. On hiatus; see profile for more info.
1. Advisor

"No! It goes against every rule of high society!" Terence sighed as the baron blustered. He had requested a private audience with the king and his advisors to discuss some problems his people were having with the grain yields and was objecting to the presence of a mere squire.

"Surely, Sire, you understand. I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. The squire," he waved a hand in Terence's direction, "is not needed."

"Baron Antony, I have specifically requested that Squire Terence be present for this audience," Arthur responded tiredly.

"But sire, it is a delicate matter, one surely not meant for the ears of a servant."

Arthur's eyes grew cold. Terence swallowed nervously. "I would trust Terence with my life. You may speak freely in front of him."

"But. . ." Baron Antony protested.

"Enough!" Arthur shouted. "Baron Antony, since you refuse to meet with one of my trusted advisors," his eyes narrowed, "I will have to refuse your request for an audience."

The baron gasped. "But sire, I have an important matter that I need to discuss with you! You can't just. . . "

"You heard the king," Kai said gruffly, frowning into his beard. "Get out."

Antony drew himself up proudly. "Very well then." He turned on his heel and left the room with a swirl of his cloak.

Inside the room, there was a moment of silence. Terence cleared his throat. "Sire, maybe you should have listened to him. . . I could have left the room."

Arthur glared at him "Terence, you are one of my most trusted advisors. If I say you are to be present for an audience or meeting, then you will be there. Don't let anyone put you down. I would trust you with my life. You have saved myself and my kingdom more than I can count. Even though you wish to remain a lowly squire, I will always count you as a trusted friend."

Terence swallowed. "Thank you, Arthur." Beside him, Gawain beamed proudly.

Later that evening at dinner, Arthur caught Terence's eye as he refilled Gawain's goblet and nodded, smiling. Terence nodded back with a smile. It was days like today that made him remember why he would die for Arthur.


	2. The Aftermath

**A/N: This takes place directly after the events of The Squire's Quest.**

* * *

Arthur sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on the parapet, staring into the night.

"Sire?" he heard behind him.

"So, Terence, Lady Eileen?"

Even without being able to see him, Arthur knew that Terence was blushing.

"How long has that been going on?"

"Um, well, since a few months after we got back from the Green Chapel," Terence muttered nervously.

Arthur let his head fall into his hands. "How could I be so blind?" he muttered. Behind him, Terence moved forward to stand next to Arthur.

"It was not your fault, Arthur. Everyone saw what they expected to." Terence paused. "Both with Eileen and I and with Mordred." Arthur winced at the name.

Arthur sighed. "I think I'm getting too old for this."

Terence huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Arthur."

"But I am! I endangered my people!"

"Arthur, you made a mistake that anyone could have made." Terence's voice softened. "It is natural to hope."

Arthur sighed again. "Still, at least one good thing came from this whole fiasco."

"What's that?""

Arthur turned to Terence. "Now people know what you have done for me."

Terence blushed again, glancing down at the ground. "You know I don't need recognition, sire."

Arthur chuckled, his hand coming up to rest on Terence's shoulder. "That's exactly why you need it."

They stood there in companionable silence for a while, watching the clouds above them float in front of the moon. Finally Arthur broke the silence.

"So, you and Lady Eileen. . .?"

He laughed as Terence blushed again. Arthur smiled.

He may have lost his son, but at least he still had his friends.


	3. Sir Wozzel

Guinevere paused in her reading, putting down her book.

"Have you ever wondered who he was?"

Arthur looked up. "Hmm. . .?"

"Sir Wozzel. Have you ever wondered who he really was?"

"Um, actually, I knew who he is. Remember?"

His wife frowned. "What do you. . .Oh, right, he said you defeated him." She looked at him, deep in thought.

"Do you know him well?"

Arthur smiled. "Quite well."

Guinevere nodded, turning back to her book. "Next time you see him, will you thank him for me?"

"Of course."

* * *

Kai shuffled his papers. "I have a bit of news. I'm not sure if it's good or not, but here it is anyway. I received a report from Sir Gareth. He claims that, and I quote," he pulled a sheet of parchment from his stack. "'The traitorous knight that did so unjustly use his wicked and cowardly sorcery to dishonor the Great Knight Lancelot. . .'" He cleared his throat, looking up. "The gist of it is that he claims to have killed Sir Wozzel."

Arthur startled, glancing over at his nephew and his very much alive squire. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? I wasn't aware of that."

Next to him, Gawain snorted and Terence glared.

Arthur glanced at Gawain. "Do you know anything about this, nephew?"

Gawain nodded. "It is somewhat complicated, involving love, jealousy, mistaken identities, a couple of idiots, and a savage damsel and her dwarf." He cleared his throat. "But I assure you, sire," he glanced back at his squire, "that Sir Wozzel is very much alive."

Arthur nodded. "That's good to know," he responded dryly.

"Hey, why do I feel left out here?" Kai questioned gruffly.

Gawain glanced back at Terence, silently asking for permission. Terence paused in thought for a few moments, then nodded.

Gawain turned back to Kai. "Terence was Sir Wozzel."

Kai blinked in surprise. "Really?" He glanced at Terence, who nodded in confirmation. Kai leaned back in his chair. "You, Sir Wozzel," he pointed at Terence, "Are my new hero. Good job. Why hasn't he been knighted yet?" He asked Arthur.

"What reason would I give for knight him?"

"Are you joking? He humbled the pompous buffoon. That's reason enough."

Arthur laughed. "I don't think the court will agree with that. They're more likely to attack Terence. And," he glanced seriously at Terence, "Terence already knows of my gratitude."

Kai sighed. "I only wish it had been me who humbled Lancelot."


	4. The Chess Game

"I am your king. You can't beat me," Arthur muttered, staring intently down at the chessboard in front of him. "That's treason."

Across from him, Terence leaned back in his chair. "Watch me." He smirked.

On the other side of the room, Gawain snorted. "Since when has Terence cared about social rules?"

Terence looked insulted. "Milord, you wound me. I am always the picture of decorum."

"Only in public," Kai broke into the conversation. "When you're alone with friends you change; you're rude and always boss around your master."

"How would you know what I'm like when I'm alone with friends, Sir Kai?" Terence replied smoothly.

"Ouch," Gawain muttered.

"And Gawain needs a firm hand to keep him in line. Without me he'd be completely lost."

"Hey!"

Terence ducked as Gawain's boot came hurtling towards his head.

"Watch it!" Arthur barked, pulling the chessboard towards him. "I am incredibly close to destroying this impertinent squire. Don't mess it up."

Terence laughed. "In your dreams, sire."

Arthur looked up with a slight smile. "Do you really think you can beat me? Even in your dreams?"

"Especially there, my king," Terence replied with a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

As the evening went on, the chess game between the Duke of Avalon and the Once and Future King grew increasingly deadly, with both Kai and Gawain resorting to dirty tactics to distract the two rivals.

Finally, Terence cried out, "Checkmate!" and Arthur's shoulders slumped with a groan. Gawain and Kai just laughed.

"I can't believe it. The great King Arthur bested by a squire," Gawain spoke mockingly.

"It's not my fault!" Arthur defended himself. "Somehow he has advanced tactical knowledge. It's as if he's had experience controlling armies. It's not fair." He brightened. "I know, why don't you take over my kingdom so I can take a vacation?"

Kai barked in laughter. "He'd probably do a better job than you."

"Wonderful. Now I can take a break."

Terence laughed. "Sorry, sire, but I'd never want to take your kingdom from you." He smiled. "I'd hate to have a rebellion on my hands, with everybody clamoring to have you back."

Arthur slumped down in his chair. "Curses. Foiled again." He stared resentfully at Terence, then sighed. "Well, I'm done here. Have a good night." He rose to leave.

Terence laughed. "Have fun tomorrow, sire."

"Why, what's happening tomorrow?"

"You're meeting with the Duke of Wales and Baron Antony to broker a peace agreement." Terence smiled evilly.

"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me about the hell that awaits me," Arthur responded dryly, glaring at Terence.

Terence beamed a bright smile at his king. "Anything for you, sire."


	5. An Unexpected Visitor

"Good morning, sire," Arthur heard from behind him. He jumped in surprise and gasped, trying to turn around at the same time. He caught his foot on a root and tripped, ending up sprawled on his back on the forest floor. He looked up and sighed.

"Terence, why do you keep doing that?"

"Do what, sire? I don't know what you're talking about." There was a slight smile on his face.

Arthur just sighed again in response.

Terence extended his hand to Arthur. Arthur grasped it and was pulled to his feet.

"Would you like to join us for dinner, sire?" Terence inquired politely.

Arthur smiled sheepishly. "That would be nice. I seem to have misplaced my supplies."

* * *

Gawain returned from watering the horses to find his squire and his king relaxing by the fire as a couple of fish slowly cooked over it, the smell spreading throughout the entire clearing, filling it with the delicious smell.

He slowed as he approached the fire. "Sire?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur looked sheepish. "I was bored."

Terence smiled. "Yes, didn't you know, milord? Ruling a kingdom can be quite boring."

Arthur glared at Terence. "Yes, I was bored, so I decided that it would be fun to visit my favorite nephew."

Gawain blinked. "I see," he said slowly, glancing over to Terence.

Terence smiled again. "He decided to go incognito as a lone knight and was robbed."

"Terence!" Arthur yelled, reaching down and grabbing a piece of kindling, throwing it at the squire.

Terence ducked, yelping.

Gawain laughed. "Uncle, please don't throw things at my squire."

"See! Thank you Gawain, I . . ."

"Only I can throw things at my squire," Gawain interrupted with an evil grin. He bent down and grabbed a rock. Terence ducked behind Arthur.

"Ha, can't get me now!"

Gawain laughed, dropping his rock and standing upright. "Just you wait, lad, you have to sleep sometime."

"Milord, please remember who cooks all of your food."

Gawain paused. "We eat the same food."

Terence smiled, still hiding behind Arthur. "Milord, if I wanted to poison you, and only you, it wouldn't be difficult."

Gawain gasped. "Did you hear that, sire? My own squire is plotting my death!"

Arthur laughed. "If I had to deal with you all the time, nephew, I'd plan your death as well."

Terence laughed as Gawain looked insulted. "See, milord?"

Gawain just grumbled and turned away.

* * *

That night, Terence woke suddenly. He sat up and looked around.

"Sire, why are you still awake?"

Arthur looked up in surprise. "Oh, sorry Terence, I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't. I would have woken anyway. Are you alright, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled. "I'm fine. I'm just enjoying being away from court."

Terence laughed softly. "I can understand that. You should take breaks more often." He sat up, pulling his knees to his chest.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, watching the stars above them through the trees.

Behind them, Gawain mumbled in his sleep and turned over. Terence glanced over at him and laughed softly. He stood and moved back to his bedroll. "Good night, sire."

Arthur lay back in his blanket, smiling. "Yes, it has been," he thought to himself. "I really should do this more often."


	6. The Attempt

Arthur was sitting down for breakfast with his wife when he noticed something was wrong. The maid that usually brought their breakfast tray had been replaced. He frowned. Perhaps she wasn't feeling well. He resolved to ask the head maid about her.

"More tea, dear?" He smiled at his Guinevere. She smiled back.

"Thank you, yes." She took a sip. "Have you heard from Lynet lately? Isn't the baby due soon?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I think Gawain said she had just a few more weeks. He's positively ecstatic."

Guinevere nodded. "Well, that is to be expected. I think that. . ." She was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Arthur frowned. He had asked that they not be disturbed unless it was an emergency. "Enter," he called.

The new maid opened the door tentatively. "Sire, I think that there's a sort of, well there's a problem," she stammered.

"Yes, what is it?" Arthur inquired.

"Me."

The door opened further to reveal a burly man with a dagger to the maid's back.

Arthur jumped up and reached for his sword hanging over the back of a chair, cursing.

"I don't think you want to do that." The maid squealed as his dagger pressed into her back. Arthur slowly sat down again, looking longingly at his sword.

The man pushed the girl into the chamber, following her with two other men, all of them dressed in chain mail with no insignia to show who they served. The last one in shut the door behind him as the girl was shoved into a closet. They quickly spread out through the room, one of them grabbing Arthur's sword with another pulling the queen to her feet with a dagger at her throat.

"Come, gentlemen, there's no need for such hostilities. I'm sure we can figure something out to resolve our difficulties," Arthur calmly spoke.

The first man sneered. "Don't delude yourself, _sire,_ the only thing we want is your seal and signature."

"What for?"

"That's not for you to know. The only thing that should concern you right now is that I have a sword and you don't."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I will not do what you want."

The man smirked. "I thought you'd say that. It's a good thing we have your queen here, then, isn't it?"

Arthur glanced over to where Guinevere was standing with a knife to her throat. He swallowed. "What exactly do you want me to sign?"

"Oh, nothing much, just something that will make me the Duke of Chutney," The man smirked. "Sir Reginald, Duke of Chutney. And if you don't hurry, than Camelot may find itself without a queen."

"Where are the papers so I can look over them?" Arthur asked, trying to stall for time.

He chuckled. "Oh, no, it doesn't matter to you what they say. All that should matter to you is that we have your wife, and if you-" He broke off suddenly when there was a knock at the door. He turned to glare at his men. "Get out of sight, you fools!" He hissed. They both ducked into the closet, leaving Guinevere. "Sit down," He hissed, brandishing his knife at her. "You." He pointed at Arthur. "Make one wrong move and your precious wife will find herself with a knife through her eye." He moved behind the door, fingering the handle of his knife.

Arthur took a deep breath to compose himself. "Enter," he called.

He let out a silent sigh of relief when he saw Squire Terence enter the room.

"Sire, Milord has asked me to inform you that he has taken a week to visit his brother." Terence shuffled his feet uncertainly. "He has also asked me to inform you that, unfortunately, since he will be in Orkney, he will be unable to be present for the ball that is planned for this weekend."

Arthur waved his hand. "It is of no concern to me what my nephew decides to do. I'm am sure that Sir Gareth will be pleased to see his brother." Arthur looked straight into Terence's eyes, trying to convey a message.

"But sire, it is. . ."

"What, squire? There's no need to be so impertinent." Arthur barked

Terence swallowed. "It is exceedingly gracious of you to excuse Sir Gawain."

"Yes, yes ,yes. Now be off with you, I have important matters to attend to."

"Of course, Sire." Terence bowed and exited the room.

The intruders let a few moments pass before moving back to the center of the room. "Now, you will sign the parchment. No more stalling."

Arthur glared up at him. "What do you expect me to use to sign it?"

The leader glanced over to his henchmen. "Give me the writing box." One of them reached into his pack and pulled out an ornate box, handing it to the leader who then gave it to Arthur. Arthur leisurely opened it and perused its contents. "Hurry up, darn you!"

Arthur looked up placatingly. "I'm just making sure you have everything I will need."

The man sneered. "Well, your majesty, does everything meet your approval?"

Arthur frowned. "I'm afraid not. You see, to make this a legally binding document, I need to seal it. And there's no sealing wax here."

The man looked around in fury before snapping at one of his men. "You! Go find me some sealing wax!" The man immediately began rummaging in the desk drawers.

As Arthur looked away from the ruffian destroying the contents of his writing desk, he caught a glimpse of something moving outside the window. He turned away from it, trying not to draw attention to whatever it was.

The man looking for the sealing wax seemed to have found it, turning around triumphantly. "I've found some, my lor-" He broke of with a gasp, slumping over the table to reveal the arrow imbedded in his back.

The leader jumped, his hand going to his sword and pulling it out. "Where are they? How could they have gotten in here?"

He turned to Arthur. "What have you done?"

Arthur shrugged innocently. "I haven't done anything. Perhaps your men just aren't as efficient as you thought they were."

"What do you mean by that?" The leader barked. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. You!" He turned to his last remaining man. "Restrain the queen!" He turned back to Arthur. "I don't know what is happening here," he said coldly. "But you will stop it. I will not tolerate-"

He broke off as an arrow slammed into the neck of his last remaining man. Guinevere cried out and broke out of his grasp as he fell to the floor, kicking him aside when he hid the floor. Arthur jumped out of his chair, knocking his assailant's sword from his grasp as he reached for the hidden dagger in his boot. Terence swung into the room through the window, an arrow already on the string of his bow. He scanned the room, looking for any signs of trouble. "Are you both alright, your majesties?" He returned his arrow to his belt and walked over to the queen, offering her a hand as he nudged the body of the man lying on the ground beside her. She swallowed and took his hand as he helped her to her feet, trying not to look down at the body.

"I- I'm fine. Thank you, Terence."

Terence nodded. He bent down to check the body. "This one's dead." He shook his head and moved over to the one with an arrow in his back. "So's this one. Maybe now Gawain will finally admit that I'm the best bowman at Camelot."

Arthur barked out a laugh. "It doesn't matter if he admits it or not, everyone knows it's true." His eyes softened. "Thank you, Terence."

Terence smiled back. "No need, sire, anyone would have done the same."

Arthur shook his head bitterly. "No, not everyone would have."

Terence looked away, clearing his throat. "So what are you planning on doing with the piece of carrion at the end of your dagger?"

Arthur turned back to his captive, moving his knife away and sheathing it. His jaw tightened. "This." He pulled back and punched the man in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor unconscious. "That was for threatening my wife," he growled.

"Was that necessary?" Terence asked.

"No, but it felt good. Go fetch Kai, please."

"Of course, sire." As Terence turned and headed for the door, it opened, revealing Kai standing there.

Terence laughed, turning back to his king. "See how efficient I am, sire? Now that I've fetched Kai for you, is there anything else you need?"

Kai looked around the room, his surprise showing on his face for once. "What happened? I leave you alone for a few minutes, come back, and you have dead men sprawled all over the floor."

Arthur laughed. "Oh, don't blame me for this. It was completely Terence's fault."

"What!" Terence protested. "So this is the thanks I get for saving your life? See if I ever do it again," he huffed.

"Isn't that what he said last time?" Kai asked.

Arthur nodded slowly. "I do believe it is."

Terence folded his arms across his chest. "Fine then, I can tell when I'm not appreciated. I'm leaving."

'Where are you going?" Kai asked.

"Gawain's got it into his head to visit Orkney. And I'm sure that this visit has nothing to do whatsoever with the banquet and ball that is happening this weekend."

"Right," Kai said, raising his brow. "I'm sure."

"Well, I must get going. You know how impatient Gawain gets." He smiled mischievously at the two brothers. "Have fun cleaning this mess up." He turned and left the room smiling.


	7. The Ring

**I don't know when this takes place, and it doesn't really matter when it does, but it is referring to events from the beginning of _The Squire's Tale,_ when Gawain and Terence are new to the court and Terence, while spying on the five kings that are at war with Arthur, steals a ring from them with the guidance of Robin.**

* * *

"Terence?" Arthur said, looking up at him. "How did you know?"

"What? Terence asked, confused. "How did I know what?"

"How did you know about the ring?"

Terence frowned. "Ring? What ring?"

"The ring that you stole from the five kings when you and Gawain had just arrived at court. As far as I know, there were only two people who knew about the ring and its significance: Merlin and myself."

Gawain looked up at this with interest. "Is that the ring that you asked me to give to Arthur in private?" he asked Terence. "I don't think you ever told me why."

"I think so," Terence said, glancing over at Arthur for confirmation. Arthur nodded. "Yes, that one. It has always puzzled me how you knew what it was."

Terence laughed nervously. "Sire, I had no idea what it was. It just seemed important, so I grabbed it."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really? You invaded an enemy camp, found a ring, and stole it at great danger to your life because you thought it _looked_ important?"

"Wait, I'm confused." Gawain interrupted. "Why did the ring matter? I thought it was one of their signet rings, and that was why you told me to give it to him."

"Whoever has possession of the ring can stand and claim the right to be king over the land. It was stolen from my father's treasury," Arthur replied. "Now," he turned back to Terence. "How did you know?"

Terence bit his lip, glancing over at Arthur. "Would you believe that I am a secret fairy prince and one of my minions told me that I needed to steal the ring in order to cement the legality of your rule because my father has an eternal rivalry with one of your enemies and likes to interfere in the affairs of humans?"

Gawain choked in surprise.

Arthur laughed. "Really? Is that what happened? Now come on Terence, tell me the truth."

Terence smiled. "The truth is, I overheard the five kings talking about it. They said that it was the proof to their right to the throne, so I made a hurried decision and grabbed it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Terence. Now, was that so hard to say?"

Gawain just stared at Terence in unbelief.

Later that night, Terence stood behind Gawain's seat at dinner, trying to pretend that he was the model of a proper squire while also trying to resist the temptation to spill wine on Gawain's head. As he reached over to top of Gawain's drink, he could feel eyes on him. He looked up surreptitiously and caught Arthur's gaze. Terence flinched and almost spilled the wine when Arthur winked at him. As Arthur turned away chuckling, Terence looked down, wondering how much he really knew.

* * *

" _Squire Terence?" the king said. Terence jumped with surprise. "For your part in this adventure, I also thank you. Will you do me the honor of accepting a small gift?" Terence gulped and nodded. Arthur took a thick yew longbow from a page and extended it to Terence. On his outstretched hand was the ring that Terence had taken from the kings. At Terence's request, Gawain had given it to the king privately. Arthur saw him look at the ring. His eyes glinted with a secret smile." (The Squire's Tale_. p 49)


	8. The Problem with Playing Hooky

Arthur walked down the hallway, concentrating on the sheets of parchment in his hands. He walked past an open door, then turned back with a look of surprise on his face. Had he just seen what he thought he had? He poked his head into the room.

"Terence? What are you doing?" he asked with a look of bemusement on his face.

Terence looked up with a look of surprise on his face. "Sire! I didn't see you there!"

"Yes," Arthur raised a brow. "I can see that." He glanced around the room. "So what exactly are you doing in an empty room on the third floor, halfway through a window that's way too small for you to have even gotten this far?"

The window looked to be about six inches wide and two feet tall. Terence was trying to go through it sideways, and had managed to get his head and chest through but seemed to be having problems getting the rest of the way through.

Terence grumbled. "Well, Gawain wanted me to clean his armor."

Arthur nodded. "And you are doing this how?"

"I was trying to hide from him and got stuck."

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Yes, you most certainly did."

"But it's not my fault! It's the fault of whoever designed this stupid castle! They shouldn't have made the windows so small!"

"Well, I don't think they expected truant squires to try and climb through them. Couldn't you tell that the window was to small for you too fit through before you actually tried?"

"It looked bigger from the outside," Terence grumbled.

"I'm sure," Arthur smirked. "Maybe you should lay off the pastries, then." Terence glared at him in response. Arthur chuckled, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

He turned back, an inquisitive look on his face as he tried to hide his laughter. "Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

He held up the sheets of parchment. "I have a meeting with Kai about the grain supplies. It's very important. I don't want to miss it." He turned to leave again.

"Are you just going to leave me like this?"

Arthur shrugged. "Yes. I was planning on telling Gawain, though. I'm sure he would be willing to help you."

Terence's face paled. "No! Please don't! I'll never hear the end of this!"

"Well then, you should have thought about that before you skipped out on your chores and tried to hide from him by climbing through a window that was too small for you to fit through." Arthur turned and walked away, waiting until he had turned the corner before breaking in to laughter.

Behind him, alone in the room, Terence strained forward with a valiant effort to free himself. He slumped forward panting. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

 **It's got to have happened at least once, right?**


	9. Bitter Truths

**This is just a retelling of the part of T _he Legend of the King_ where Arthur is laying siege to Lancelot's castle, the Joyous Garde, rewritten so that Terence gets a more active role. Portions of this are quoted directly from the book.**

* * *

"Mordred is on his way here. We need to tell Arthur to forget Joyous Garde and Lancelot and start preparing for the real enemy," Terence said to Gawain.

Gawain said nothing.

"Well?" Terence asked. "Don't you agree?"

"I don't care who we fight," Gawain said after a moment, resignedly. "I just want to fight someone. I think Arthur feels the same. He's not the man he was a month ago. Neither of us are."

"Let me talk to him," Terence said calmly. He tried to sound confident, but his heart sank. If Arthur had changed as much in the past few weeks as Gawain had, there was no knowing whether he would listen. "Come on, milord."

To Terence's dismay, Arthur was even more changed than Gawain. His face was haggard, and the spark of humor and compassion that always lurked in his eyes was utterly absent. Terence reported Mordred's plans, but the king barely seemed to notice. After a moment, Terence said, "My liege, tomorrow night is the full moon. If Mordred leaves Abingdon then, he should arrive in a week. We can set a trap."

At last Arthur spoke. "I have no troops to spare."

Terence hesitated, then said, "You could withdraw from Joyous Garde." Arthur's eyes flashed, the first sign of energy that Terence had seen. Terence went on, "I don't know why you are besieging Lancelot, but-"

"Don't you?" Arthur asked grimly. "You haven't heard Lancelot's been betraying me with my wife all these years and now has joined with Mordred to steal my throne?"

"I don't believe it," Terence said calmly.

"You don't want to believe it, and so you don't," Arthur said bitterly. "As king, I don't have that luxury. I have to believe that facts."

"Belief isn't about facts," Terence said. "That's knowledge. Belief is what you know without facts, and I believe in Lancelot. He's a man of honor, and he's loyal to you."

"You don't believe he had an affair with my queen?"

"Yes, sire. He did that, and it stained his honor. But he ended it and gave up his knighthood. Only when he had restored his honor- by rescuing the queen and restoring her to you- did he return. Since then, he has been faithful."

"That's what I thought, too," replied the king dully. "I was even willing to believe Guinevere when she said she had been tricked into meeting Lancelot in her chambers at midnight."

"What?"

"Oh, haven't you heard that bit? They were found together in the queen's chambers. Guinevere claimed they'd both received forged letters asking the other to meet- but of course neither letter was ever found. Lancelot fled, killing Agrivaine and four other knights on his way out. Even then, I tried to excuse those murders as self-defense. But when he rode into Camelot to steal Guinevere away one more time, I had to face the truth. Lancelot's turned against me, and I won't stop until he's crushed."

The king's voice was quiet. Bowing, Terence turned on his heels and left the king's tent. He knew when there was nothing left to say.

"Any luck?" growled a gruff voice. Terence looked up into Kai's black eyes. He shook his head. Kai swore softly and said, "Then it's over. He won't listen to me or Parsifal. Gawain won't even try. Bedivere's gone. There's no one else he might listen to."

"You don't believe Lancelot's a traitor?"

"Do you take me for an ass? Of course not. Lancelot would die before he'd betray the king. And if it didn't involve Gwen, Arthur would know that, too. But when it comes to her, he can't see around that old blasted affair."

Terence's eyes looked old. "And Mordred'll be here in a week."

They stood together in silence, watching the camp. Terence remembered the people he had seen on his journey, the death and destruction. "You know what?" he said suddenly. "That's it. If we can't talk sense into him, then we'll have to try it another way." He strode back into the tent.

"Terence?" Kai said. "What exactly are you-" There was a loud thud from the tent. "Terence! What did you do?" he rushed into the tent to see Terence standing over the limp form of the king, slumped over his table. He glared accusingly at him. "What?" Terence shrugged. "Nothing else was working."

"So you just decided to hit him? What good will that do? Now he'll probably just lump you with Lancelot when he wakes."

"While I was traveling here, I passed through a town just a few hours away. It was attacked, not by Mordred, but by bandits who were taking advantage of all the chaos. I thought I'd take Arthur out there, remind him of where his priorities should be."

"You-" Kai paused. "You know, that might work. Maybe all he needs is something to wake him up, snap him out of this slump of his."

"It's better than doing nothing," Terence shrugged.

"Do you want me to come along?" Kai asked.

Terence shook his head. "You need to stay here and take charge of things. Have you tried talking with Lancelot?"

Kai nodded, "Multiple times. He won't respond."

Just then there was a call from outside the tent. "Sir Kai!"

He stepped out, blocking the entrance with his body. "Yes?"

"You told me to report as soon as anything happened at the wall."

"Yes?"

"A knight hails us."

"Who is it?"

"They say it's Lancelot himself."

Terence suddenly recognized the youth. "Bede?" he asked.

The young man turned and looked at Terence for the first time. "Sir Terence!" he said.

Terence said, "I'm glad you made it to Camelot."

Bede replied, "I didn't actually. The-"

"Catch up later," Kai interrupted. "We've got bigger problems. Bede, go fetch Sir Parsifal."

They watched him run off.

"Well, that was bad timing," Terence said.

Kai just grunted. "It'll work out. Parsifal can watch over him, while you and I speak with Lancelot alone."

"Do you think he'll agree to that?"

Kai shrugged. "That's why I'm including you. Right now, you're probably the person he trusts the most at court."

. . .

A few minutes later, the great doors to the castle were opening while Kai and Terence watched.

"Are you sure it's wise to leave Gawain in charge? He's not the same as he once was."

Kai shrugged. "Who else? Parsifal can't watch the king and command the troops at the same time."

When they were alone with Lancelot and Guinevere, Lancelot spoke. "Why are you here and not Arthur? Is he all right?"

Kai glared pointedly at Terence. "Ask him!"

"Oh, come on, Terence complained. "You said it was a better idea than anything you could come up with."

"What did you do?" Guinevere asked concernedly.

"We're trying to talk some sense into him," Terence responded. "Parsifal's watching him. If you give us a few hours . . . "

Lancelot nodded, then glanced over at Guinevere. "But . . . he's still not going to execute Gwen, is he?"

Kai stared at him in shock. "No! He was never going to! What made you even think that?"

Now it was Lancelot's turn to stare in shock. "But that's what you said! In the letter you sent me!"

Kai shook his head grimly. "I sent no such letter."

Lancelot reached into his pocket and drew out a sheet of parchment, handing it to Kai. he examined it for a moment, then looked up. "This is not my writing. It does, however, match the writing of the letter found on your desk after you left court."

"A letter?" Lancelot asked.

"A half-written letter supposedly from you to Mordred, promising to join his rebellion."

Lancelot's jaw tightened. "I never wrote such a letter."

"Do you mind if we take the letter?" Terence asked Lancelot. "It could help convince Arthur."

He nodded. "I wish you luck."

. . .

"What-" Arthur woke up with a gasp. He sat up, looking around. Had Lancelot snuck out of the castle and captured him?

"So you're awake then." he turned around. "Terence?" he gasped. "What- I trusted you!" Terence just watched him dispassionately.

Arthur's eyes darkened. "Have you betrayed me too, then?."

Terence barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "If you honestly think that, then you are not the man I once knew."

Arthur ignored that statement. "Where are we?" He looked around.

"We're a just a few hours ride from the Joyous Garde. This was a small town before bandits attacked it just last week. You were too occupied with your issue with Lancelot to notice."

Arthur looked around again. They were standing in what looked like it had once been the middle of the town, surrounded by blackened buildings. There were carcasses of livestock lying scattered throughout the area. A few bodies lay to one side, covered with only a few bare blankets.

"Why didn't they bury their dead?"

"They didn't have time," Terence responded. "I've traveled all the way from Camelot to Cornwall, on your orders. I followed the path of the White Horsemen, and Mordred. Nearly every town that I passed looked like this. And since the White Horsemen were dressed like your knights, almost the entire country blames it all on you. And you know what? In a way, they're right."

Arthur made a noise of protest.

"Instead of doing something active to counteract Mordred's actions, you're concentrating on your little spat with Lancelot."

"He attacked us! He betrayed me!" Arthur protested.

Terence reached into a pocket and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He held it out to Arthur.

"What's this?"

"Just read it."

Arthur read it through, then glanced up. "This isn't Kai's writing."

Terence shook his head. "No, it's not."

"Where did you get this?"

"Lancelot called for a parley just after . . . he gestured at Arthur's head. "Right after I decided that I had had enough."

"Right after you attacked me." Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Right after I decided that someone had to talk some sense into you."

"What did you do to Kai? Why didn't he stop you?"

Terence shrugged. "Because he agreed with me."

"He agr-" Arthur burst out angrily.

"Yes." Terence nodded. "Kai knows where his priorities are."

Arthur's face fell. He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. "Am I alone then?" he asked quietly. Terence hurried to reassure him. "Arthur, you are not alone. I am here, and I still support you, I just think that you need to readjust your priorities." He watched Arthur carefully.

"It doesn't matter to me what you decide. Continue with this feud with Lancelot that Mordred caused, or go after the army that's destroying your country. Either way, I will stand against Mordred when he arrives, either by myself or with you." Terence turned his back and walked away to his horse, swinging up into the saddle.

"Wait!" Terence twisted around in his saddle. "I'll come with you," Arthur stood. "You- you're right. We need to focus on Mordred right now. I don't know if I believe you that Mordred framed Lancelot, but I'm willing to wait until we deal with Mordred to decide about that." He stood. "Let's get back to the others."


	10. Revenge is Sweet

Arthur strode through the courtyard, the freshly fallen snow crunching under his feet. He heard running footsteps, and then the blur of someone running past him, laughing. He frowned. It had looked rather like his nephew. But why would Gawain be running through the courtyard? He shook his head. Sometimes his knights seemed more like children then the knights they claimed to be. He turned the corner and walked face first into a snowball.

"Sire! I am so sorry, I didn't see you there!"

Arthur reached up and wiped the snow from his face. "That's quite all right, Terence. I suppose that you were aiming for Gawain?" The snow cleared from his face, he looked at Terence.

"But of course," Terence declared. "Who else? He ambushed me in the stables, so I chased after him. I would've gotten him too, except. . ."

"Except I got in the way," Arthur said, nodding. "And I'm afraid that I may have given him enough time to get away safely. So would you like some assistance?"

A slow smile grew on Terence's face. "Who am I to refuse my king?"

. . . . .

Gawain scurried through the corridors of the castle, ducking around corners and attracting stares from the servants. He heard someone coming down the hall and ducked into an empty chamber to wait for them to pass. Instead, whoever it was entered the room he was in.

"Ah, hello, uncle," he said, doing his best to not appear suspicious.

"Gawain," the king responded. "Whatever are you doing, skulking around the castle like you are?"

"Who, me?" Gawain asked, blinking innocently.

"Yes, you," Arthur responded, his brow raised.

"Ah, well, you see, I was- I was looking for Terence."

"Terence? What for?"

"Well, you see, I- I needed something."

"You needed something. Of course. Never fear, nephew, I can assist you. Luckily for you, I know exactly where Terence is."

Gawain blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course!" Arthur's voice was warm as he wrapped an arm around his nephew's shoulder and began to guide him towards the door. "Can't have one of my knights wandering around the castle searching for his squire, now, can I."

"No, it's really quite all right, I can find him on my own." Gawain dug his heels in, trying to duck out from underneath the king's arm.

"Nonsense! There's no point in you spending all that time trying to find Terence on your own when I know exactly where he is." He tightened his grasp on Gawain.

A few minutes later, Arthur guided Gawain into a courtyard, the both of them blinking in the bright light. Gawain took advantage of Arthur's brief moment of disorientation to try and spring free, but Arthur's grasp was too strong. Unfortunately for Gawain, the ground was slippery with a layer of ice, and his struggle sent him falling to the ground. Arthur laughed and went back through the door into the castle. "You're welcome!" he called back.

Gawain looked up from where he sat sprawled in the snow. Terence stood a few feet in front of him, and evil grin on his face and a large ball of snow in his hands. He gulped in fear. "Now, Terence, think very carefully about what you are about to do. Remember, you are my squire."

Terence smirked. "I'm only returning the favor, milord." He let the snowball loose. Gawain flinched away with a shriek as the snow struck his face.

From the doorway came a low chuckle. Terence looked up from his victory to see the king standing in the open doorway. A large bucket of snow was in his hands. Terence's eyes widened in fear as he whirled around and fled.

"Never fear, nephew, I shall avenge you!" the king cried out, chasing after Terence.


	11. Jealous

"It's been months since I've been able to see Lorie!" Gawain whined. He was sprawled on a chair in his chambers at Camelot, his arm over his face. "And now that we have this tournament going on, who knows how long it'll be before I can sneak out." He peeked around his arm at his squire.

"Terence, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course, milord," Terence said smoothly from where he was laying underneath the table.

"And what are you even doing under there?"

Terence didn't even look at him. "Important Duke of Avalon business. You wouldn't understand it."

"Really? Because it looks to me as if you're carving on the bottom of my table. Sometimes I feel that you use that excuse more often than you should."

At that moment, there as a knock at the door. Gawain glared at Terence, waiting for him to get up to open the door. He didn't. With a heavy sigh, Gawain stood up to get the door.

"Ah, Sir Gawain!" Eileen said smoothly. "Just the knight I was looking for! I wonder if you could let me borrow your squire. I'm planning a trip outside the castle to gather wildflowers, and I need a servant to help carry things for me."

Gawain glared at her. "That is the most flimsy excuse that I have ever heard. You don't want _wildflowers_ , you just want to get my squire alone so that you can have your wicked way with him, while _I_ stay here all alone and lonely. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen my wife?"

Behind him, Terence rolled out from under the table. "Of course, Lady Eileen, I would be honored to help you." He smirked at Gawain, who just transferred his glare to him.

"I hate you," Gawain muttered.


	12. One Big Family

Gawain glared at Lancelot, muttering under his breath. "You know, he's your cousin now," Terence's quiet voice said from behind him. Gawain jumped.

"Good Gog, don't _do_ that." Then his brain managed to process what Terence had said. "He's my what?"

"Cousin. Lorie's mother was a French princess. Lancelot is a French prince."

Gawain stared at him in shock. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope!" he said cheerfully. "Well, actually, they may not exactly be cousins."

"Oh, thank Go-"

"She might be his aunt. After all, time passes differently in Avalon." His face brightened. "Maybe she's his _great-aunt._ "

"Terence."

"Yes, milord?"

"Shut up."

* * *

 **This is at the end of _The Squire, his Knight, and his Lady_ , after they get back from Avalon but before Terence defeats Lancelot in the tournament.**


	13. Brothers

Gaheris walked into the courtyard whistling cheerfully, his horse following behind on a lead. He strode into the stables and handing his horse off to a stable hand, flipping him a few sovereigns as he did so before breathing a sigh of relief. It was nice to get away from the court every now and then, but it was still good to be back. And at least he had a few interesting stories to tell his brother.

As Gaheris made his way through the castle to Gawain's rooms, though, he kept getting strange looks from the people he passed. He frowned slightly, bemused. What had happened while he was gone? Still frowning, he arrived at Gawain's door. When no one responded to his knock, he opened the door and slipped in. The room was empty. And what was more, there was no sign of Gawain at all. All of his armour and clothes were gone, and a layer of dust was already beginning to settle on the floor. He quickly strode over to Terence's room. It was the same; completely empty. He was beginning to panic now. Even if Gawain had left court for a quest or just a chance to get away, his rooms would not have been almost entirely cleared out the way they were. He left the room, determined to find out what had happened.

Just down the hall, he happened to bump into Agrivaine. "Where's Gawain?" he burst out, reaching out to grab his arm. "I checked his room, but there was nothing there. And Terence is gone. He's on a quest, right?"

Agrivaine shrugged. "He's not here because he's dead. Or will be soon, at least."

"What." Gaheris froze in shock. "What do you mean?"

"What part of 'dead' do you not understand?"

"But- I mean- what happened?"

"He was an idiot," Agrivaine scowled. "Took a challenge that was directed to Arthur. He always did want to be the great hero," he said scornfully. He ripped his arm from Gaheris' grasp and kept walking. Behind him, Gaheris stood, with his arm still reaching out. "No," he gasped softly.

THIS IS A LINE

Almost seven years later, Gaheris strode angrily through the corridors of the castle, once again making his way towards his older brother's room. He burst through the door loudly without knocking.

Gawain looked up from where he was emptying out his pack onto the floor of his room. "Gary!" he cried with a smile, dropping the pack and moving towards him with open arms. Gary just glared at him from where he was still standing in the open doorway.

"Gary?" Gawain asked, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"Seven years." Gaheris said softly. Gawain faltered. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that, but, you see, I can explain . . ."

"You were dead! I thought you were dead for seven years!"

Gawain winced. "But it really wasn't my fault!"

"YES, IT WAS!" Gaheris stepped into the room, moving forward threateningly. Gawain began backing away from him.

"Now, Gary, calm down, like I said, it's-" he ducked. "There's no need to throw things at me!"

"SHUT UP!" Gaheris yelled as he grabbed a bowl from the table and readied it. Behind him, Terence poked his head into the room, saw what was going on, and slowly backed out again.

Gawain ducked as the bowl flew past his head, shattering against the wall. He turned back to face his younger brother again. "Gary, I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Shut up," Gary muttered. "The court had a funeral for you, did you know?"

He flinched. "No, I didn't."

"We didn't have a body. You have an empty grave."

Gawain nodded uncertainly. "I sort of expected that."

"You left without telling me."

"You weren't at court, I couldn't."

"You could have left me a letter."

He nodded. "I could have. I should have."

Gaheris' face softened. "Just as long as you admit that you were wrong." He stepped forward, embracing his brother. After a moment of apprehension, Gawain relaxed, hesitantly bringing his arms around Gary. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.


	14. The Banlieu Affair

Lynet blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked Gawain. He smirked. "Did Gary not tell you about this?"

"No, he didn't. I think I would have remembered it if he had."

"But it's true! Terence can back me up."

At that moment, Gaheris walked up to where they were sitting and claimed the chair next to his new wife. "Hey, Gawain, is there a reason you're monopolizing my wife's time?"

Lynet took one look at him and burst into laughter. "What?" he asked, frowning. "Gawain?" he turned to his brother. "What did you tell her?"

Gawain just smirked, standing and clapping Gaheris on the back. "You're welcome, brother." He walked away.

"What did you tell her!" Gaheris yelled after him, before frantically turning back to face Lynet. "Lynet, what did he tell you?"

She had calmed down enough to speak. "He told me about one of your fights."

"Right," he nodded. "Which one?"

"The one with Sir Banlieu," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"The one with Sir Banlieu," he repeated slowly. "How does he know about that? He wasn't there."

She smiled. "I don't know. But it's a great story. Did you really refuse to fight him because he was wearing a skirt?"

"I said that I wouldn't raise my sword against the skirts of womanhood!" he protested. "I was trying to be chivalrous!"

She burst into laughter again.

"Fine, then," Gaheris huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Be that way."


	15. The Lady of Shalott

_On either side the river lie_

 _Long fields of barley and of rye,_

 _That clothe the wold and meet the sky;_

 _And thro' the field the road runs by_

 _To many-tower'd Camelot;_

 _The yellow-leaved waterlily_

 _The green-sheathed daffodilly_

 _Tremble in the water chilly_

 _Round about Shalott._

\- From The Lady of Shalott, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

Sir Lancelot rode through the forest, his guide beside him. He was returning to Camelot after a brief sojourn from the court and his lady love. He was imagining in his mind the welcome he would get from his Peerless Perfection of Maidenhood when all of a sudden he heard the sound of a woman singing and stopped his horse, looking around in curiosity. There was no woman anywhere in sight, just a dust road surrounded by a thick forest. "Do you hear it, my lord?" his guide asked.

"It's beautiful," he said in wonder. "What is it?"

The guide gestured towards a thick copse of trees off to the side of the path. "Stories say that, deep in those trees, is an enchanted tower, hidden from the eyes of men, where the fairy Lady of Shalott lives, cursed to dwell there alone for all of time."

Lancelot frowned. "The Lady of Shalott," he repeated, his frown deepening. "Why does that sound familiar?" He shook his head, dismissing it. "Never mind. It does not matter. We must hurry," he told his guide. "I want to reach Camelot by tonight."

Alone in her tower, the Lady of Shalott stared down at her loom, concentrating on her weaving. She refused to look in her mirror that day. It only served to mock her.

* * *

 _But in her web she still delights_

 _To weave the mirror's magic sights,_

 _For often thro' the silent nights_

 _A funeral, with plumes and lights_

 _And music, came from Camelot:_

 _Or when the moon was overhead_

 _Came two young lovers lately wed;_

 _'I am half sick of shadows,' said_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

\- From The Lady of Shalott, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

Alone in her tower, the Lady sat at her loom as she did every day, as she had ever since she had been cursed.

It was only a few months ago that she had been happy and free, on the island of Avalon with her friends and family. The ruling seat of Avalon had been empty for decades, but she had heard rumors that a new duke was of age, and might take his place as ruler of the magical island soon.

There had been an uproar over the news, and in that uproar, darkness had arrived on the island.

A foreign visitor had slipped into the island, unnoticed, a servant of the Enchantress. Unnoticed, until they had stood in the middle of the courtyard and attacked Lady Nimue.

The Lady of Shalott had jumped in front of Nimue and had taken the curse meant for the Lady of the Lake on herself. The next thing she knew she was in the tower, her fingers already working at the loom. She was facing the wall, away from the only window in the room. Her only glimpse into the outside world was the mirror on the wall opposite the window, in which she could see a reflection of the world below her window.

She did not regret her impetuous decision, even now. The Lady of Shalott had never known her parents; Nimue had raised her from infancy. She would have done anything for her.

Those memories of her childhood with Nimue were the only things that kept her fingers moving. Those long and carefree days that she had spent with Nimue and the other child who had been left in Nimue's care, hidden from the war in his father's kingdom. Nimue had said that he would have a great part to play in the fate of the world.

She hadn't seen him in years, the Lady mused. What had happened to him?

* * *

A few months had gone by since Sir Lancelot du Lac had passed unnoticed by her tower, and the Lady was once again watching her mirror. This time she could see a group passing along the road, heading towards Camelot. The two knights rode ahead in the front, with the dwarf behind them. In the very back rode a lady and a squire, holding hands across the gap between their horses. As they passed the quiet copse where her tower lay hidden, the squire flinched, dropping his lady's hand.

"Terence?" she asked, glancing hesitantly towards the others for fear they would notice.

"There's something here," he said quietly, his eyes searching the secret depths of the willows.

His companion frowned. "What do you mean?"

Terence's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure. There's just a feeling here. . ." he trailed off.

His lady looked to the knights in front of them again. "Terence, come on, they're getting ahead of us."

Terence nodded and continued on down the road with the others. Just as he was about to pass a bend in the road and be beyond her mirror's gaze, he glanced back again, and this time his eyes met with the Lady's in her mirror.

In that moment, he bowed, slightly and from the waist only, as a great lord might bow to an equal. Then he rode on.

Shadows, she thought, watching the images of Terence and Eileen disappear into the distance, their hands clasped once again. That's all they are; shadows of the reality that I cannot have. She let her head slump forward tiredly while her fingers continued moving on her loom. "I am half sick of shadows," she muttered under her breath.

* * *

 _She left the web, she left the loom_

 _She made three paces thro' the room_

 _She saw the water-flower bloom,_

 _She saw the helmet and the plume,_

 _She look'd down to Camelot._

 _Out flew the web and floated wide;_

 _The mirror crack'd from side to side;_

 _'The curse is come upon me,' cried_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

\- From The Lady of Shalott, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

That night the Lady was at her loom as always. She had no need of sleep, and could only work at her loom as she had always done. In her mirror she could see the dark velvet of the night sky, the stars glimmering overhead, the clouds that passed the waning moon, the same as it always was.

But that night was different. That night, in the glimmering moonlight, she saw someone that she recognized, passing hurriedly along the road and visible in her mirror. Immediately her mind flashed back to her childhood with Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, and Lancelot, the prince entrusted to Nimue's care.

Her hands stilled on her loom. The woven web fell to the floor as she stood, her eyes blazing. Her chair fell to the ground behind her, shattering into a thousand pieces as she turned to face the window. In three short steps she was there, looking down to Camelot. Her eyes caught the glimmer of the silver starlight dancing off of Lancelot's shield as she searched his face desperately for a glimpse of the child she had once known.

Her face fell. He was not the same boy that she had grown up with, had lived with and loved. His pride and arrogance made him unrecognizable to her. She thought bitterly of the great things that Nimue had said he would do. She had risked the curse for the sake of a man who did not exist.

She stayed at the window for hours, long after Lancelot had passed, watching the stars vanish into the horizon and the sun rise. Her reverie was broken as the mirror behind her cracked and fell to the floor.

She spun around to face the inside of her tower. "The curse!" she cried.

. . . . .

She could feel it, could feel her impending death creeping closer. She had left her loom and had looked down to Camelot. The curse was upon her.

She closed her eyes in silent resignation. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her face for the first time in what seemed like forever. Perhaps a few hours in the sun were better than a lifetime of shadows.

She left the chamber; she left the tower, and made her way through the pale yellow woods to where the broad stream complained in its banks. By the banks she found a shallow boat, floating beneath a willow.

With a steady gaze she looked down the water to where Camelot lay. She stood there till the closing of the day, until the sun was had almost passed below the trees. Then she stepped gingerly into the boat, loosing the chain as she lay down. The water, she knew, would always bring her back home to Avalon.

The broad stream bore the Lady of Shalott further downstream. She passed trees and houses, towns and farms, and as she floated down the stream, growing closer and closer to Avalon, she began to sing.

The willowy hills and fields heard her chanting her deathsong. It was a slow carol, mournful and slow. She chanted loudly and slowly, till her eyes were darkened and her smooth face had slackened.

Singing in her song, the Lady of Shalott died.

Still further down the stream she floated, a pale, pale corpse, until at last the boat came to a stop in the shallows of the stream.

* * *

 _Under tower and balcony,_

 _By garden wall and gallery,_

 _A pale, pale corpse she floated by,_

 _Deadcold, between the houses high,_

 _Dead into tower'd Camelot._

 _Knight and burgher, lord and dame,_

 _To the planked wharfage came:_

 _Below the stern they read her name,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

. . . . .

 _But Lancelot mused a little space;_

 _He said, "She has a lovely face;_

 _God in his mercy lend her grace,_

 _The Lady of Shalott."_

\- From The Lady of Shalott, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

Lancelot road along the road, his head bowed dejectedly. His honor was gone. His honor was completely gone, and with it, the entire purpose of his existence. How had he failed so badly? He had been doing everything right; the right clothes, the right actions, the right friends and lovers-

But that upstart Sir Wozzel had ruined everything for him, and now he was forced to leave the court a laughing-stock.

Just as those thoughts were crossing his mind, a glancing ray of light dancing across his face, as if reflected from something. He frowned.

He crossed the small rise in the road to look down on where the path crossed a stream and could see what had caught the sunlight. It was a woman, lying in a boat that was caught in the shallows. Despite the liveliness of the sun dancing off of her necklace, she was completely still. He kicked his horse into a trot and hurried down to where the boat floated in the still river, jumping off his horse as soon as he was close. He reached over to check her neck. There was no pulse.

Lancelot glanced around, looking for someone nearby, anyone. There was no one. He sighed and looked down at the woman again. He didn't have a shovel or anything that could be used to dig with. He couldn't bury her, but he hated to leave her here alongside the road. Coming to a decision, he resolved to push her boat out into the stream's current and let it take her where it would. He reached out to straighten her arms from where they had fallen over the side of the boat and were trailing in the water.

As he did so, his eyes landed on the necklace that encircled her delicate neck. His heart hitched. There was something about it- something that stirred something in his memory, but he couldn't quite remember what. He reached over, almost unconsciously, and lifted it from her neck with a gentle hand to examine it closer.

It was a golden locket, with a delicate apple engraved on the front. He carefully opened it to reveal a delicate white flower inside. He dropped the locket into the stream in shock. The water carried the flower away.

He remembered this. He remembered the war in France, and his father taking him somewhere and leaving him there, telling him he would be kept safe. He had been scared at first, alone with the strange woman, but then she had come and taken him by the hand. They had played together, laughing and running through the trees. When his father had come back to take him away again, Lancelot had gifted her with the necklace. It had been his mother's. The flower had come from the meadow they had played in.

How had he forgotten? And what had happened to her?

"She was cursed," someone behind him said. Lancelot jumped to his feet and spun around, his hand going to his belt where his sword had once been. He had left his sword in Camelot.

"Squire Terence?"

Terence gazed calmly back at Lancelot. "She was cursed," he repeated, his eyes drifting to where the woman lay still in the boat. "She saved a life, but she was cursed in doing so."

"I- I know her," Lancelot haltingly declared. "We were children together. How could I have forgotten her?"

A mysterious smile flitted across Terence's face. "It is difficult for the children of men to remember things that are often beyond your understanding."

"The children of men?" Lancelot repeated. He chose to ignore the ramifications of Terence using the word 'your.'

Terence nodded. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Sir Lancelot. The Lady of Shalott was not of this world."

Lancelot nodded, his face lined with sorrow and pain. "Will I ever see her again?" he asked softly. "Please."

Terence nodded again. "When you return home, for the last and final time."

Lancelot nodded dumbly. "Thank you," he whispered, to Terence or to the Lady it was hard to tell. Terence didn't respond; he just bowed silently and was gone.

Lancelot reached down to pick up the locket from where it lay in the silvery waters. He gently folded her arms across her chest and pushed the boat out into the stream.

As he watched her float away, Lancelot whispered brokenly, "God in his mercy lend her grace; the Lady of Shalott."

* * *

 **The Lady of Shalott is a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, loosely based on the Arthurian legend of Elaine of Astolat.**

 **I read The Lady of Shalott my senior year of high school. It's a beautiful poem, but there were a certain elements in the story that annoyed me.**

 **We also don't get very much about Lancelot's background from The Squire's Tale books; all we have is a few short sentences from The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung-Cart Knight, saying that the Lady of the Lake hid Lancelot for three years during a civil war in France because she knew that he would be important someday (449-450).**

 **I decided to combine the two and this is what I ended up with.**


	16. Bound by Blood

Morgan gazed across the courtyard at the young boys practicing with their wooden swords. Ever since her mother's death six years ago when Morgan was only two years of age and her sister Dioneta was just an infant, they had been shunted from castle to castle and from lady to lady. Their elder sister Morgause had little desire to raise her two much younger sister, and so her mother's former friends took them in turns when Morgause decided she had had enough.

This month they were staying with Lady Mary, the wife of Sir Ector.

Morgan hadn't really had much to do with any boys her age- except for her nephew Gawain, although he didn't count- but on this one visit, she found her eyes continually drawn to one of the young squires in particular.

He seemed to be somewhat of an outsider. Despite the efforts of one of the older boys to pull him into the games and jokes of the others he remained slightly aloof from the others, but it wasn't an arrogant aloofness, more as if the others naturally deferred to him.

Morgan liked that. He had a sort of quiet dignity to him that stood out in sharp contrast to the loudness and rowdiness of the other boys.

Morgan watched him for the rest of the month they stayed there until Morgause could be persuaded to take them back. He was always polite and courteous to the other boys and the servants, and was still the best swordsman.

Arthur, she had heard one of the others calling him.

It was a good name.

. . . . .

Morgan thought little of him for a time afterwards; she had many other things to worry about; like the machinations of her older sister and how to protect her younger sister.

When she did think of him again, it was in a warm, quiet stone chamber in the other world, learning the skills of an enchantress. Her teacher said that Morgan's heart was cursed with a curse of her own making. For some reason that she didn't understand, her thoughts immediately flashed to the boy who had caught her eye in her visit to Sir Ector's castle. Arthur.

Morgan couldn't understand why.

. . . . .

Two years later, Morgan stood with her younger sister in the stands surrounding the training field.

The throne of Camelot had sat empty for years, and they were there now to determine the next king through trial by combat. Merlin, the old king Uther's advisor, still stood fast by the idea of the sword in the stone determining the next king, but it had been too long since King Uther's death and the people were growing increasingly anxious.

Morgan watched as the young boy she had seen years before, now nearly a man, stood at the edge of the field watching the jousting.

He has grown and changed since she had seen him last, but the sense of wisdom and kindness was still present. He wasn't quite old and skilled enough to fight with the others, so he was there as his foster brother's squire.

It was a shame he was a nameless orphan; a relationship between the two of them would never be approved by her sister, or anyone really. But, after all, forbidden love was always the sweetest.

Shortly after Morgan had gazed upon Arthur so admirably, there was a great commotion. Someone had pulled the sword from the stone, and was therefore the King of Camelot and England.

Morgan rushed with her sister to the courtyard where the stone stood to see Arthur standing by the empty stone with the sword in his hands.

Merlin immediately proclaimed him king over all of England with a satisfied air. Morgan listened with dawning comprehension and horror as Merlin told the story of Arthur's conception and how, upon the death of Uther and Igraine within the same month, Merlin had taken the four-year-old Arthur and placed him in Sir Ector's household.

Merlin met her gaze, his eyes apologetic.

Arthur was her brother.

It could never be.

. . . . .

" _Morgan shook her head. 'He deserves a better lady than Guinevere. If only-' she broke off._

' _If only?' Gawain asked._

 _She smiled ruefully. 'Like Lancelot, I find that forbidden love is the sweetest.'_ ' _Poor Morgan,' Gawain said simply._

' _But where Lancelot's love is forbidden by custom, mine is forbidden by blood,' she said. 'And even an enchantress is bound by blood.' Gawain nodded._

 _. . ._

 _Morgan glanced at him briefly. 'Is there some way to help my Arthur?'"_

( _The Squire, his Knight, and his Lady, page 60)_


	17. Farewell

Arthur stood on top of the castle wall as he had before when he had watched Lancelot and Guinevere, but this time he was watching someone very different ride away; his nephew Gawain and his loyal squire Terence.

Ever since Gawain and Terence had first arrived at Camelot, Arthur had known that there was something different about them. Gawain was his nephew, and while he may have been the son of one of Arthur's worst enemies, Arthur had always known that Gawain was loyal to him. He trusted him as he did few knights, and had quickly accepted Gawain into his inner circle of advisors.

And Terence, Gawain's squire: there was something eerie about him. He always seemed to know more than he was supposed to. And then there was that strange dream that Arthur had had a few years ago, where Terence had saved his life. Yes, there was definitely something strange about Terence. But Arthur trusted him in spite of it. Or rather, because of it.

Gawain had said that he wanted to leave early; leave to go face the Green Knight and certain death. There was never really any question about Terence going with him; of course he would. Terence had stated his desire quite firmly. But with that, Arthur was being deprived of two of his most loyal friends.

Down below the castle, Gawain and Terence had reached the top of the hill. Terence paused at the top and looked back. He saw Arthur standing on top of the castle wall and raised a hand in farewell. Arthur returned the gesture. With that, the two rode over the crest of the hill and were lost to sight. Gawain had never looked back.


End file.
